


The Sound of Your Voice

by MythopoeticReality



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythopoeticReality/pseuds/MythopoeticReality
Summary: Shame had kept Maglor away from is brother after Fingon returned with him from Thangorodrim, and even after he worked up the courage to see Maedhros again, it only was while he was sleeping.





	The Sound of Your Voice

Findekáno had left me with assurances that we weren’t to be disturbed.  He’d cast one final look back in Maitimo’s direction, his fists bunching up at his sides, thumb running over his knuckles, before he shook his head and stepped outside once more.

My brother was sleeping. In those days I could only imagine the way he would look at me, the accusations that would be lurking in the depths of his gaze.  _Thirty years, for thirty years you’ve abandoned me, left me to hang. Look at what they’ve done to me._ _ **You’ve**_ _allowed it to be so._ He was withered to naught, a twisted wooden stem where once grew a towering oak. Every inch of bare flesh I saw was carved and marred with pale, shining scars, splitting his lip, torn down his cheak. His nose, once aquiline and  proud, an image nearly that of Father’s had now broken and re-healed so often it resembled little else beyond a twisted tree root. Even that once magnificent lion-mane of his, his former pride and crowning glory was shorn and ragged.

Next to this, my own justifications, words that sounded so  _right_  when spoken to my bothers all those years ago seemed like so much wind.  _Shall we risk our own lives and even more of our people’s on a fool’s errend?_ A selfish and cowardly excuse.  _Do you think Maitimo would wish to see that? To see any of us dead?_ Did  _I_ believe that he would rather remain where he was, left to the mercy of Morringotto’s whims? Even in the weeks and years following as Maitimo himself would try and reassure me that I had done the right thing, using those same words, they still sounded so hollow.

And so I came while he slept. They drugged him that he would be free from dreams, so he would not thrash about in his bed, groping for unseen enemies, or screaming and curling away from invisible tormentors in the night. Despite all else, in those moments atleast, he looked peaceful.

I sighed, watching him for a long moment, before slipping into my usual spot beside his bed. “I’m back,” I murmured, as though anyone could hear me. 

My eyes darted around the room for a moment and I sighed, shaking my head. White sheets and white walls, even the light that filtered in through the windows seemed  pale, and white, and washed out. Lifeless. “You must hate it in here.” Surrounded by the bitter, sharp scents of healing herbs and constant reminders from the healers of how he needed to rest. How  _weakened_  he truly was. He  _would_  hate it here. We all would. “We’ll have you back soon. You won’t have to put up with this place for long.”

I sighed, dragging my hand through my hair as I turned away from my brother. It felt riddiculous, to be talking to myself like this. But better my own voice filling the air than the silence.

“Tyelpë asks after you. They all do.” A brief smile touched my lips as I thought back to our nephew. “Ai, to see the look on your face when you see him again! He has grown so quickly beneath this new sun, you would barely recognize him…” I found myself trailing off into silence yet again, and once more Maitimo’s breathing was the only sound in the room.  It pressed down like a mountain, leaving me only to my thoughts again. My lips pursed together, thinning out into a pale, hard line.

“You wouldn’t speak to me when we first arrived here. After the ships…” I shifted in my seat, glanced to Maitimo, and then away again. “Well. Don’t know if you remember, so much has happened since then. But I  _did_  want to speak to you. Seeing this place, breathing it’s air…despite everything else all I could think on was how much it  _was_  like those old stories Grandfather used to tell us, those old songs he used to sing. Do you remember them?”

I shut my eyes, my mind drifting back to our far-off childhoods, those quiet moments at night where we would be gathered before the fireplace in his study, the wood snapping and the shadows dancing into the corners of the far walls. When we would be sitting at the feet of his chair, looking up to him and  _listening,_ glancing across at one another with that same thought written across our faces to be read as clearly as words on a page.  _Someday. Someday I will go there._ I began to sing.

“Kano?”

It was a voice I did not recognize, but I knew who it belonged to all the same. My eyes snapped open, and in shame I fell suddenly silent, staring right back into the eyes of my brother. Slow and rough and broken, it was the drawn out croak of a dying raven. My mouth went dry, and I felt my throat draw as I swallowed.  _This…_

Though I have always been known for the golden tones my voice can forge, Matimo’s voice had been made for oration. Smooth and bright and full of the easy laughing charm he usually carried with him, to now hear him like  _this…_

My eyes dropped to the ground, and I was pushing myself to my feet again.  _You left him there. You could have done_ _ **something**_ _, but you left him there._ The very tips of my ears were burning now as I muttered quickly under my breath, “I’ve disturbed you. Ai! Forgive me, I was told you needed rest –“

A hand grabbed my wrist as I hurried to make myself gone. I stopped, turning back to my brother, blinking.

“No. Kano…” His eyes squeezed shut and he gritted his teeth, his grasp slipping away from me as he shuffled himself first onto his elbows and then upright in bed. I could see how quickly his chest rose and fell, how much he was struggling…

“Maitimo, wait –”  Despite myself I lept back to his side trying to help him.

He shoved me off. “I….I have it.” He muttered, before shutting his eyes and leaning back heavily against his headboard.

I frowned just standing there, watching him, my weight shifting between my feet.

“Stay, Kano,” he murmured, and even to speak this much was a struggle for him, I could tell. “please.”

I hesitated for a moment, glancing back towards the door, before I nodded. My fingers knotted in the ends of my hair, tugging at it. But then I walked forward, took my seat once again, and I stayed.


End file.
